


In Case You Were Wondering...

by owlbsurfinbird



Series: Choose Your Own Garden Adventure [2]
Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Bloody Mary for Breakfast, Choose Your Own Ending, Crack-Ish At the Very End, Fun, Gen, Jean Innocent Appreciation Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 12:05:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3977380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlbsurfinbird/pseuds/owlbsurfinbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robbie heard Jean's confused voice, "Wasn't aware that you lived here, James. When did that happen?"</p><p>"I don't live here, Ma'am. I just come to cook on occasion."</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Case You Were Wondering...

**Author's Note:**

> "The Plot" --the first story in the series--is the basic beginning. This is one of the possible endings.

"Hope it's not a shout," Robbie groused. "I had my heart set on a hot breakfast."

"I'm the one on rota, not you," James reminded him.

"Breakfast!" Laura shouted from inside the kitchen. She appeared flustered, looking up as they entered. "And I have news."

"The fellowship?"

"Bugger. No, not the fellowship. Though I may need it more than I thought." She handed a plate to James. "Put that on the table, would you, please? Jean Innocent's joining us for breakfast."

"Innocent? Why?" Robbie handed silverware to James.

Laura separated more slices of bacon and threw it under the grill with a clatter. "Robbie, would you check the fridge and see if we have some other fruit…"

"I can run to the market, if you like," James offered.

"No, she's coming right over. Just rang off. She was sitting in her car at Tesco."

"Laura." Robbie took her by the shoulders and gently turned her around. "What's happened?"

"Jean Innocent's been sacked." She took the plate from James and set it on the table. "Re-assigned because of the Lawrie case. Found out last night. She's beside herself. Not crying, not exactly. More disbelief and cold fury. All of the officers that were involved in any way are being re-assigned or are being offered early retirement." She took a deep breath. "Including me. So I may need that fellowship in Los Angeles after all. If it is still in the offing once this finds its way into the press."

"Aw, Laura." Robbie hugged her. "Are you sure—"

There was a sharp knock at the front door. James went to answer it. Robbie heard Jean's confused voice, "Wasn't aware that you lived here, James. When did that happen?"

"I don't live here, Ma'am. I just come to cook on occasion." He ushered her into the kitchen, stepping to the sink to wash his hands and quietly take over the hob so that Laura could get Jean settled.

Obviously Jean hadn't slept. Her usual façade of careful grooming was replaced by the well-scrubbed face of a vunerable looking middle aged woman unable to hide her fatigue. She wore no makeup, scant lipstick, jeans, t-shirt and hoodie. She was carrying a shopping bag.

Anyone looking through the window at the four of us would think we were out to spend the day in the garden, Robbie thought, eyeing the hoodies, trainers and ratty looking weekend clothes they were all wearing. Jean took the items out of the bag and Robbie raised his eyebrows seeing the unopened bottles of Smirnoff, Big Tom tomato juice, a bunch of celery, and a bottle of mid-range champagne.

"Since you were already having breakfast, I assumed orange juice. But please tell me you have Worcestershire sauce, hot sauce, and perhaps, a little ice? Not to put in the drink, but--"

"Right, yeah, I know. You want me to gently pour it from glass to glass to chill it," said Robbie, casting a glance at Laura. 

"No one is ever going to use that old cocktail shaker, Robbie." Laura's voice was gentle and soft.

He nodded, numb. "Been awhile since I had a bloody mary for breakfast. Champagne and orange juice is…?"

"Mimosas." James supplied, absently, slicing tomatoes. He pulled the bacon from the grill and laid out thick tomato slices.

Laura brought down a wine glass and a tall glass and gave Innocent a questioning look.

Jean tapped the taller glass and moved out of Laura's way. She took a seat at the table and watched the proceedings with a forlorn expression. After a wordless consultation, Laura brought out a pitcher to mix the drinks while Robbie readied ice.

"How do you like your eggs, Ma'am?"

"James, you're making me breakfast. Call me Jean, please. Not like I'm your boss—or anyone's boss—any longer." She toyed with her silverware. "Scrambled, please."

Laura set the pitcher on the table just as James finished making the eggs. Robbie put a plate of toast on the table, followed by a plate of bacon. Laura grabbed the tomatoes from the grill before they burned. She sat down at the table with a thump. "Well?"

James smiled slightly, remembering their early conversation starter, and prompted, "'Good morning, Jean.'"

"Sod off, James," Laura said, with asperity. "Jean?"

Jean shook her head and looked at the ceiling. "When I'm gone, I'm going to remember those moments when I wanted to say, 'Sod off, James.'"

"All too frequent, I'd imagine," Robbie said. He patted her arm. "Have a bite to eat." He poured a drink for her, handing her a stick of celery. "Never knew what to do with this. Don't even know what it's for. Do you stick it in the glass or does it sit—"

"Robbie." Laura shook her head slightly.

They all looked at James, who was implacably eating his eggs. He took a bite of toast, looked up, a crease between his eyebrows. He settled back in his chair, as if he was about to lecture, lacing his hands together on the table. "There are insufficient classical references to the drink in Shelley. No mention of the celery stick in Keats…"

Robbie chuckled.

Jean laughed outright. "That does put it into perspective, I suppose. Well." Jean took a sip of her drink, tilted her head, making a bit of a grimace, and took another drink.

"Should we toast?"

"Bit late for that. Next round."

She nodded, apparently satisfied. "Assistant Chief Constable Marston notified me late yesterday afternoon. I was to clean out my office." She bit her lip. "My personal effects were loaded into boxes under supervision—"

"My God, Jean." Laura's eyes were wide, her expression horrified.

"Fortunately, most of the nick had left by the time they finished. Took everything I had not to rage at the movers." She had another drink. "I was offered very little in the way of explanation." She huffed a sigh. "My solicitor has advised me not to discuss the matter publicly. But you're my friends." She surveyed the table. "I can tell you that it involves the Lawrie matter—the instances that were bungled in the past, the unfortunate death of the police officer in the case we just completed."

"Did Lizzie—"

"No. No, of course not. Though she certainly has good reason to seek advice, given the severity of her injuries. No, it was the family of the fallen officer. And, privately, I think they are right to do so—horrible for a child to grow up without a father. They are well-connected and, well, you know how the police have fared lately in the press and public opinion. Clean sweep of the matter, said Marston. Punish everyone who might remotely be at fault."

"You're the scapegoat? But you weren't even at Thames Valley for the original case!"

Jean shrugged eloquently.

Laura spread her hands around her drink, tapping the glass with her fingertips. "I was. I signed off on the work that was outsourced to that lab. Big upheaval with personnel at PDB—Pathology Delivery Board—and the Home Office at the time. They've corrected the issues since, but…"

 _A complaint registered against Laura at this point will sink her chances for the fellowship,_ Robbie thought. _And whatever action they've taken against Jean will trickle down to the detectives on the original case. Bloody hell. I'm going to have to retire again._

"Are you saying that it might be wise to retain counsel?" James's voice was very soft. His eyes flickered to Laura.

Jean nodded and then looked away, brushing fatigue from beneath her eyes with her fingertips.

James got up from the table and returned moments later with a box of tissue, setting it wordlessly on the table.

Jean gave him a small smile of thanks.

"It's for me." James admitted. "Might dissolve any second."

"My last official act, James, was to sign you up for that Family Liaison Officer training and to approve your proposal. In fact, I think that proposal was the reason you were kept on. That, and Lizzie's insistence."

"Sorry?"

"When I found out what was happening, I spoke with Lizzie. She said she'd been contacted by a division solicitor to see if she would be taking action as well. She spoke glowingly on behalf of all of us, in fact—I checked with Marston—but she specifically singled you out, James. It meant a great deal to Tony that you took turns at night watching over Lizzie while she was in hospital."

"I wondered why we never saw you there during the light of day." Robbie rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled heavily. "Thought I might have to have a word. Now I know you're just a bloody vampire."

"My secret's out. Immortal, but without sparkles." James finished up his breakfast, pushed his plate away, and laced his fingers again. "CID liked my proposal?"

Jean cocked her head. "'Workshops on increasing the emotional resiliency of senior officers to prevent burn-out and improve retention'? They want you to lead them."

"I'm not qualified. It would have to be a social worker or family therapist."

"Well, you'll need to work that out with your new Chief Super."

"Do you have any idea who that will be?"

Jean shook her head. "I'm afraid I'm out of the loop."

"What do you think will happen with Laura?" Robbie asked. "She's too young for early retirement."

"They'll have to offer it, though. A provision of the Suitability Rules." Laura munched on a slice of bacon. "I should hear about the fellowship today or tomorrow. Though I suppose they should know about this matter before they make their decision. Hate to have them find out later." She gave a wan smile and glanced at her watch. "I need to make a call. Excuse me."

Robbie finished off his drink, enjoying the faint buzz of alcohol, and then he took a sip of coffee to clear the tomato juice from his tongue. _Maybe that's what the celery is for._ He bit into the celery. He took another sip of coffee and glanced up. James was watching him, faint distaste evident in his expression.

"It's not bad. Caffeine and alcohol. Have to add it to my daily routine, now that I'm retired again. Apparently."

Jean nodded. "I'll probably be running into you at the hardware store. I thought I'd take up knitting again."

"I enjoy knitting," James offered.

Jean stared at him, mouth open in surprise.

 _Of course he knits,_ Robbie thought. _Probably makes jumpers for orphans or something._

James cleared his plate, taking it to the sink. "I crochet as well." He turned on the tap to rinse his dishe. "I know how to weld, how to sheer a sheep, how to calibrate surveyor's equipment, and how to navigate by the stars." He placed the dish into the dishwasher. "And the celery garnish in a bloody mary is meant as an astringent, a palate cleanser."

Jean folded her arms, a confused half smile on her face. "What are you saying?"

"I don't know important things." James turned and leaned back against the counter, arms folded, mirroring her expression. "But you do."

"He'd never say that to me," Robbie offered. "You'll do fine, Jean."

James unfolded himself and came around to put his hands on Robbie's shoulders, giving them an affectionate squeeze. His hands warmed Robbie down to the bone, resting there.

"We'll all be fine," pronounced James.

Robbie reached up, tapped James's hand with a fingertip. _That's enough of that here, now._ He dropped his hand to the table to pick up his glass.

James left his hands on Robbie's shoulders for a few seconds more as if daring Robbie to make an issue, and then he stepped back.

Jean shook her head slightly without comment, raised her glass and clinked it with Robbie's.

Laura came back into the kitchen, barely pausing in the doorway. There was a twinkle in her eye and she beamed, as if vibrating with excitement. "I have news," she said. "They are planning re-assignments. I called in to the office just now, and I'm to tell you that your mobile is off."

Jean reached into the pocket of her hoodie and deliberately turned it on. She waited, staring at it.

"Somewhat anticlimactic," James said, quietly.

The mobile buzzed.

Jean let it buzz again.

"Oh, fer crying out loud—" Robbie began.

Jean stood up, snatched the device from the table and went into the living room.

Laura gathered the plates and pushed the stack toward Robbie. "Your turn."

"Ah, l'amour." James smirked at Robbie.

"What do you think, Laura?"

"Possibly the Met. Maybe New Scotland Yard." Laura's eyes twinkled. She folded her arms. "She can look up James's old flame, Fiona."

James snorted. "Fiona left the Yard to marry another officer."

"What division is he in?"

" _ **She**_ is in Vice. They have two little girls. Hand-made Christmas cards every year." He forced a smile. "Simply adorable."

Robbie shared a puzzled look with Laura over James's head. _Thought he wasn't all that keen on her, so what's this, then?_

"Well, we love you, James." Laura said, reaching over to squeeze James's arm.

"And when we're enjoying that warm California sunshine in the middle of winter, we'll send you a hand-made Christmas card, too," Robbie added.

James huffed a laugh. "I suppose I deserved that."

Jean leaned against the door jamb, as if waiting to be noticed. She wore a satisfied, almost jubilant expression. "I've been reassigned—lateral move—to New Scotland Yard."

"Ah, well, we should break out that champagne, then." _Feather in her cap,_ thought Robbie.

She shook her head, a moue of disagreement. "There's a downside. I will be supervising someone I used to know—"

"But James just said that Fiona's gone."

"Not Fiona." Jean fiddled with her earring, absently. "I may not have mentioned it before as it was not work related, but the current Mr. Innocent is not my first husband."

"I always thought Mr. Innocent was the name of your cat," James said, all wide eyed innocence.

Jean stared at him for a moment, taken aback, rolled her eyes, and then continued, "My first husband was a copper, too. And a good one. It was a brief marriage, but—intense." Her eyes smoldered. "I think we may have been too young. Anyway, he's remarried, has a couple of kids. And I have Mr. Innocent and Chris." She smiled, wrinkling her nose and leaning forward with a smile, as if imparting a confidence. "I think, though, it can work. He's mellowed, from what I understand. I'll have to give him a ring, let him know I'm coming. Wouldn't do to show up at his doorstep after all these years without a word."

"Congratulations." Robbie poured more bloody Mary into their glasses and this time, they did toast.

"New beginnings and much happiness," James offered. They clinked glasses.

"Never worked at the Yard, but I do know a few coppers that have moved out of Oxford and up, so to speak," Robbie said, taking a bite of celery. "What's his name?"

"Inspector Greg Lestrade."

"Lestrade? Nope," said Robbie, glancing from James to Laura and then, finally, to Jean. "Never heard of him."

"Probably just as well." Jean smiled over her glass.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the only ending in the series that hasn't been beta'd or Brit picked because it was written at a truck stop as the sun was coming over the horizon...


End file.
